


somewhere hiding underneath

by smallredboy



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Denial, Gen, Inspired by Percy Jackson, Minor Violence, brief religious freaking out, set vaguely during season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 22:25:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17875976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: House's shooter isn't all that human, and House isn't, either. He isn't sure he buys it.





	somewhere hiding underneath

**Author's Note:**

> uhhhh yeah this idea came to me and i threw it together hastily
> 
> i havent picked up a PJO book in... 3 years or so. so take all in this with a grain of salt. whoops
> 
> fills the 'au: fantasy' square in my trope bingo card
> 
> enjoy!

House is sure this is one of his weirdest hallucinations yet. 

His shooter from about a year ago, Moriarty, has turned into a scorpion-lion with his face intact, and he's in the outside of Princeton-Plainsboro, a scorpion's venomous spikes next to his face.    


"Why are you doing this?" he breathes— he doesn't know if he's talking to his brain or to Moriarty. 

As Moriarty's tail moves closer, there's a ray of sun directed towards House, so harsh it blinds him, and sunlight falls right into his hands and his face.

It washes over him, makes him feel more strong, but his leg still hurts and there's still a monster on top of him. So he stays there, supporting himself with his elbows, unable to comprehend what's going on. 

Moriarty only smiles, his mane shifting as he shakes his head. 

"Oh, Apollo's son," he says. His mind goes over what he knows; Apollo, god of the sun, medicine, and music. Of course.  "I did not expect that. You seem to be of Hephaestus' kind. You would have more in common with your father, then— crippled, useless."   


"Shut up," House growls, and a spine is thrown into his chest, and he gasps in pain. How is no one doing anything? Is anyone seeing this? He's here— he's outside— or is he not? Is he hallucinating this hard?    


Suddenly, there's a scream, and Moriarty has a sword in his side. He looks up, and he sees Cuddy, a shield in one hand and a sword sinking into Moriarty's lion body. No blood gushes out, the creature on top of House just turns into dust, and then promptly disappears into the ground. 

House notices his hands are stained with dirt, and that the person who saved him is... 

"Cuddy?!" he breathes, looking up at her.    


She smiles. "No, you're not hallucinating. You're definitely the oldest I've seen anyone be recognized by their parent. Let's go, I have ambrosia in my office." She offers him her hand.    


House is still in a state of shock, so he holds her hand and gets up, limping towards the building. He gets into Cuddy's office, and she applies a honey-like substance into his chest after removing the spikes out of it. She then offers him some in the form of liquid; he drinks a bit and he immediately tastes Wilson's favorite ice cream.    


After a few seconds, all the pain in his body disappears. His eyes widen and he looks at Cuddy, who smiles and cocks her head.    


"I'm keeping this,” he says, his hand on the vase. 

"No, you're not. It is poisonous in large quantities."

"My leg doesn't hurt anymore!"

"And you'll  _ die  _ if you ingest more than necessary," Cuddy shoots back. 

House groans and lets himself enjoy the bliss of no pain and tries to ignore the fact it will come back eventually. It always does— he's not allowed any peace, is he? 

"What is going on?" House asks her, finally.  "How did nobody see?"

Cuddy shakes her head. "The Mist doesn't let humans see us."   


He cocks a brow. "Who is us?"   


"Demigods."   


"God isn't real," he blurts out.   


"There are dozens of them."   


"The gods aren't real, then." He nearly jumps when there's thunder resonate around the room. 

"Okay. That was a coincidence."

"It wasn't," Cuddy says, sitting on the edge of her desk. "I know your atheist self will have a lot of issues with this, but the gods are up there, watching us."

House still is sure he's hallucinating, so he eggs her on, "Whose daughter are you?"

"Athena."

He hums. "That makes sense."

"And you are the son of Apollo. Pretty appropriate with your very sunny personality."

"Ha-ha, very funny. But really, what did I get so high off that I'm hallucinating  _ this _ , of all things?"

"You're not hallucinating. You can ignore it, you can try to, but now that you know your scent will be stronger. And more monsters like that manticore will be after you." She pauses. “I thought it would’ve gotten enough with trying to kill you the human way, with a gun, but it doesn’t seem like the case. At least it’s gone for the time being.”

"For the time being? It  _ disappeared _ .”

“It’s regenerating,” Cuddy says, cocking her head. “It’ll be back in a few hundred years.  _ You  _ should be safe now, though.”

He looks at her, almost waiting for her to start laughing at him for believing it. “So... well, I need to talk to Wilson about this." He pauses. "Should I be worried he won't believe me?"

Cuddy chuckles. "He's kinda averse to the Mist. He's seen me turn monsters into dust. I've told him how much I suspected about you. It's gonna be fine, House."

House walks straight for Wilson's office and enters unprompted. As soon as he sees there is no patient, he closes the door and immediately starts speaking. 

"How am I supposed to believe the Greek gods are real?! That I'm the son of one?!"

"Well, it makes sense that your father is unknown with that," Wilson says dryly. 

"I don't care about that! There's no God. That's what I've believed for my whole-ass life. Am I supposed to now believe on some Sun guy who knocked my mom up but wasn't kind enough to go when I fucked my leg and fix it?!"

"Apollo's kind of a douche from what I've heard. I was betting money on Hephaestus. Cuddy said Aries would've fit— she knows the guy. Travels exclusively on motorbikes and fights demigods on the daily."

House draws in a breath and shakes his head. "There is no way this is real."

"Unless monsters come to you, I know you aren't doing anything about it. You're going to pretend everything's normal and perfectly human, and that there are no people up in the sky."

House stays silent, because Wilson is right, and then suddenly asks, "Are they still in Mount Olympus?"

"Nope. Empire State Building. Floor six hundred."

"Now you're fucking with me."   


"I'm not!"

He stays silent for a second, trying to find out what he wants to ask. There are many things he could ask. "Any of your wives were a part of this terrible secret club?"   


"Nope."   


"How do you know, then? I thought no one would know if these things were real."   


Wilson shrugs. "I think Jewish people are just better at dissipating the Mist than other people."   


"Are you fucking with me?"

"No."

"What am I supposed to do about this?"

"Whatever you want. Use it as boasting— no one will believe you."

He raises a brow, looks at him. "I don't believe it myself."

"Exactly."

House rolls his eyes and decides to head off to see his fellows; they aren't anything but human. That's for sure. And they'll never believe this, so he can't tell them, of course. Maybe he'll go to sleep and he'll wake up and everything will be back to normal. 

Maybe he's not the son of Apollo. Maybe he's hallucinating.

When he goes back home, his house is perfectly fine, and he heads right for bed. He dreams, he sees a twenty-something blond guy, tanned and muscular, stupidly handsome. Eyes of liquid gold. A laurel crown over his head. It can't be. 

"'Sup, son?" Apollo says, smiling cockily at him.    


"No way in hell you're my father."   


"Blythe is a nice woman," he says, laying down on House's childhood bed. "Constantly struggling with her marriage. She fell for me, and I got her pregnant and made it so you'd look like your family's friend. You'd know you weren't that bastard's son, but you would never guess you were this piece of art's son either, eh?"

House groans. This is unbelievable. This cannot be happening. "You can take any form, right? I think you need to look at least sixty to be a theoretical father for me."

Apollo raises a brow. "Sixty-year-olds are ugly, though."

"I'm not the son of someone this conceited," House mumbles to himself. 

"But you are this cocky yourself!" he says, raising his voice. "You cannot act like you're above this all when you're not, kiddo."

"I'm forty-five, I'm not—"   


"I'm thousands of years old," Apollo countered, stepping closer to him, suddenly much, much taller. "You are a child."   


"Not in human standards."   


He shrugs. "Not in my interest."   


House draws in a breath and flips him off. God, why can't any of his fathers be normal? He really had to be the son of a Greek god. The Greek gods really had to be real. They really felt the need to do that. Okay! 

The next day, Wilson gives him a smile, and he just raises a brow at him. 

He sure didn't dream it, but that doesn't mean he's going to talk about it any time soon.


End file.
